


Hand in Hand with the Damned

by aknightchild



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, major character death kinda, this is just sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:20:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22839202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aknightchild/pseuds/aknightchild
Summary: He was something of his own breed. So was Jaskier.He had felt that they made perfect sense.It was starting to be clear to him that it never would have.Even compared to the white wolf, Jaskier was still something too foreign. Too rare.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 157





	Hand in Hand with the Damned

**Author's Note:**

> The title is named after Alesana's song Hand in Hand with the Damned.

He had always been strange. 

That was undeniable. 

Jaskier never saw it as much of a problem though, but it did make it hard for him to have friends for a long period of time.

Then he met Geralt and that seemed to change for quite a while.

And then that fateful day on the mountain arrived and he knew that he should’ve known that it was coming. Good things didn’t like to stick to him for too long. 

He should have known that he had overstayed his welcome.

That didn’t stop the agony ripping through his chest as he walked away from the one he had grown to call his best friend. Part of him even hoped that maybe, if he played his cards right, they would someday be able to call themselves something a bit more. 

He was patient after all. 

They had all the time in the world to figure it out.

But that was all over now. 

Jaskier eventually stopped to collect himself at a pond just outside of the town that they had passed through when Geralt had agreed to that dragon hunt. He finds himself wishing that he could study his features in the reflection of the mirror-like water, but that’s when the questions began to come up to the surface of his thoughts.

What was he to do now?

Where would he go after this?

He knew that he couldn’t go back to the life he knew before Geralt.

The life far before he had even become a bard.

A life full of pain and blood.

And they had called him strange for hating it. For walking away from that type of living. 

He had ended up standing there for so long that the sun began to set. He let out a long sigh before deciding to grab himself a room for the night in that same rowdy tavern the negotiation had taken place, even though he despised the idea. 

Just like the time before, the place was bustling with customers and the sound of all of the voices seemed to join as one constant hum of nerve-racking noise. He didn’t waste any time making his way to the bar, but as soon as the barkeep saw him the man spoke before Jaskier could.

“Are you here to sing us a song, bard?” The man questioned as he handed a mug of ale to the woman on his left.

Jaskier gave him the best smile he could manage at that moment and shook his head, “Afraid not, I simply would like a room for the night if you have one open.”

The barkeep grinned at him as he shook his head, “You aren’t getting anything without giving something in return.”

“I assure you that I can pay.” Jaskier tells him as he pulls out his pouch of coins for the other man to see.

Yet again, the barkeep shook his head as his grinning mouth grew even wider before leaning over the counter to speak in a slightly lower tone, “Money isn’t the issue here, we don’t give our rooms to just anybody.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow at that, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand…”

The man’s hand reached out to him, his dirtied fingers inches from Jaskier’s jaw when a feminine voice calls out, “Travis! Stop giving our customers a hard time!”

A dark-headed woman approached the barkeep and gave him a swift slap to the arm before holding out a key to Jaskier, “It's on the house dear, since this creep doesn’t know how to keep things professional.”

Jaskier gave her a relieved smile and did his best to keep his gaze away from the barkeep, Travis, as he thanked her. She nodded for him to follow her to the other side of the bar and pointed him in the direction of the stairs. 

“If you need anything, food, drink, or even bathwater, just come get me.” She tells him before turning back towards the bar after sending him a parting wave. “Your room is the second door on the left.”

The first thing Jaskier did upon entering his room was lock the door and then barricaded it with a chair. It had been so long since he had stayed somewhere like this without a traveling companion, someone that made him feel at ease and safe. It wasn’t like he truly needed protecting, but the fact that he looked like he did, made his life that much more difficult. Things like what had happened back at the bar used to occur all the time, but he had gotten so used to it not being an issue anymore since he had Geralt around. No one would even bat an eye at Jaskier when they saw him enter a tavern or inn with the witcher leading the way. 

He missed that now more than ever. 

He let out a groan before sitting his lute down safely on the floor and then collapsed onto the bed in a heap. Now with the ruckus from downstairs muffled somewhat thanks to the floor, Jaskier hoped that he would be able to calm down a bit and get some rest.

That wasn’t to be the case. 

He tossed and turned as the night went on, drifting in and out of a fitful sleep. 

He gave up after a while, deciding to play his lute to pass the time and to drown out the drunken voices beneath him. His fingers mindlessly plucked at the strings, until a familiar tune began weaving its way into his ears.

He let out a huff of air and began to softly sing the song that he had begun to write with a different intention, but now the words were pouring out of his mouth like blood. It made him think of the time the djinn had magically tightened his throat until he was coughing up the substance.

He didn’t even think something like him could bleed.

Geralt had taught him a lot of things like that during their time together.

Like how deeply he could care for another and how much he could ache because of them in the same breath.

He shook his head fiercely, as if the motion could scramble up those thoughts until he couldn’t make sense of them. Just so he could have a moment of peace. It was so unlike him to wish for something like silence, but the cacophony was becoming more than a little maddening. The sounds of the voices below him and the sounds from within him were going to push him past the brink if he didn’t pull himself together. 

But then, he had an idea.

Why should he gather up what little sanity he had left?

What use was it to him at this point?

His hands became motionless against his instrument as he mulled it over. Maybe if he had time to truly rest, to allow himself a forceful sort of calm, he would recover from this. He could get over his heartache and vow to himself to keep the matter of his heart away from those who would harm it.

Could he turn back into something like that again? To be uncaring and isolated like the others of his kind had told him to be? To stay away from humans for good? Jaskier knew in his heart of hearts that he probably should have heeded their warnings, but he had been hopeful. He thought that he could find someone worth the time and effort, to prove them wrong.

He had thought Geralt was perfect for that. 

Jaskier could see that he was different from everyone else too, from the moment they had met.

From humans and monsters alike.

He was something of his own breed.

So was Jaskier.

He had felt that they made perfect sense.

It was starting to be clear to him that it never would have. 

Even compared to the white wolf, Jaskier was still something too foreign. Too rare. 

A particularly loud squeal from down below had him gritting his teeth. His dark thoughts were seeming to be more and more inviting with every sound that was made. He knew the perfect way to receive the peace he craved, to drain the restless that had settled deep in his bones. 

Jaskier raked a hand through his hair as he tried to reason with himself.

He knew that the second this started it would be nearly impossible to stop. 

He would be like a long time drunk finally connecting his lips back to the glass once more after years of staying away. 

There was a sudden bang on the door that made him flinch and then a slurred shout came from the other side, “Hey, prince charming! Why don’t you come see what the king of this castle wants to bestow upon you!”  
Jaskier let out an irritated growl, it was that annoying prick, Travis, again and he had clearly been deep in his cups since Jaskier had slipped off upstairs. Another harsh slam to the wood told him that the man had taken to hitting his body against the blocked door. 

“Oh come on, boy! I know who you are! You’re Jaskier the famous bard! The tales told by and about you are legend! Everyone knows about how eagerly you take in bedmates!” Travis shouted through the seam in the door frame and Jaskier could picture the smile curling his mouth as he went on. “If that mutant witcher was worthy enough to fuck, then so are any other vermin on the street.”

A scream tore its way out of Jaskier’s throat, a mix of anguish and rage forcing him off of the bed with such speed that in whipped the hair on his head back. He threw the chair to the side as he tore the bedroom door open and grabbed Travis by the front of his grimy shirt. Fear swiftly replaced the amused excitement on the barkeep’s face.

A soft chuckle escaped his mouth before Jaskier points out, “You’re going to regret this, but not for long.” 

He had the much larger man yanked into his room with one hand and the sheer force of it caused him to fall to the floor when Jaskier had let go. The door was hastily shut and locked once again before Jaskier turned to face Travis. The moonlight cast strange shadows over his form as they both seemed to wait for the other to move first. 

“I had sworn a long time ago that I would never do this again.” Jaskier says in a strained voice that was barely above a whisper. 

He took a few steps toward the other man, the light of the moon finally illuminating his face and nothing about him appeared to be truly changed.

Other than his eyes.

Those bright sky blue irises that had always seemed to sparkle had shifted to a midnight ocean and the storm in them seemed to be spilling over.

“Now, there’s no need to cry. I won’t hurt…” His words are cut off into the sound of a gurgle as Jaskier plunged his razor-like teeth into the man’s exposed throat and tore at the flesh until he had removed the whole front of his neck. 

“Yes, you would. That’s all humans know how to do.” Jaskier whispers to the limp body in his arms after he had spit the hunk of flesh onto the ground beside him. 

He dropped the mangled corpse from his lap and rose to his feet. There was no way he was going to drink from someone like Travis. He spat the remaining bit of the man’s blood back into his face before moving to clean himself with the water that had been left in a pitcher beside his bed. He was glad that he had chosen to wear the color red before that last trip with Geralt, because the bits of spatter on his pants were barely noticeable thanks to that. It barely took him any time to clean himself back off and when he was presentable he scooped up his lute on his way out of the room. 

Jaskier didn’t even bother locking the door behind him. The thrill of taking the risk of being found out before he was ready had him chuckling as he made his way downstairs. There was an extra bounce in his step now that he hadn’t felt in a while, a purpose that made his footing sure.

He felt powerful.

Like he was meant to. 

He made sure to smile warmly as eyes fell on him, knowing that there was no way they could see the struggle hidden beneath the surface. He wanted to make this fun for everyone involved after all.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a tiny part of him begged to just leave this place, to clutch onto what little of his humanity remained. His primeval side won that argument without much effort. He wanted this and the reasons why shouldn’t truly matter right then. 

The barkeep’s words came back to him then.

If the Witcher was worthy…

It was Jaskier that was unworthy of Geralt, not the other way around. He felt like that small truth was tearing him apart from the inside out and he was tired of it. 

“Are you alright, hon?” A female voice questioned, snapping him out of his daze.

It was the dark-headed girl that had been kind to him. He hadn’t even had a chance to learn her name. It was probably better that way. 

“I am, I was just getting a bit bored up there. Would you mind if I played something for your guests?” He asked as he held up his lute. “It would be free of charge, since you’ve been so kind to me.”

A bright smile sprang upon her face as she nodded, “That would be wonderful. Maybe they’ll slow down with the demand of drinks if they’re too busy singing.”

Jaskier laughed as he nodded, “I’ll do my best to see that it comes to fruition.”

Before he could step past her, she placed a gentle hand on his arm as she asked, “I saw Travis go upstairs not too long ago. He didn’t disturb you, did he?”

The memory of the man’s now exposed neck muscles and all the blood that was probably deeply staining the floorboards, sprang up behind his eyes. 

He shook his head while shrugging his shoulders, “I didn’t even notice anyone come up there.”

She let out a small sigh of relief, “That’s good to hear. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to basically pry him off of customers that he thinks are good looking. Maybe he actually decided to listen to me for once.”

Jaskier secretly wanted to tell her that she wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore, but he knew that he better keep it to himself. For now.

He only smiled at her before making his way to where the crowd was at its thickest and hopped on top of one of the only clean tables he could find. Nearly every person in the tavern turned in his direction. Doing a silent and swift headcount, Jaskier estimated that there were roughly thirty people in this part of the tavern and his heart began to race as he thought of the challenge it would present.

He cleared his throat, gave a strum to his lute’s strings, and called out, “Good evening my friends! I hope you don’t mind if I join in on the fun?”

Instead of waiting for a response he began to play ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’ and any hesitation he had seen on the crowds' faces quickly melted away. By the time he reached the chorus, the tavern was in an uproar of song as Jaskier jumped from one table to another, but they failed to notice that he wasn’t just putting on a show. 

Quicker than mortal eyes and ears could catch on to, he locked the windows and doors. They were all blissfully unaware that they were now trapped. Jaskier was grateful for his siren-like abilities now more than ever. The patrons were under his spell now and all the regret he was feeling before seemed to slip off his shoulders with the last notes of his song. He made sure to tuck his instrument underneath the table he was now perched on. The last thing he wanted was for it to get dirty or broken. 

The scent of Travis’s blood was now wafting in from upstairs and the need for more bloodshed gripped his senses like a desperate lover. Jaskier took in a deep, steadying breath before flashing a smile at the people beneath him. 

The time had come, the time to get some rest at the price of a bit of cruelty.  
“I’m afraid that’s all the time I have left for song and dance. I have other needs to attend to.” He explains much to the disappointment of his audience. 

He held his hand out to a woman with golden hair and pulled her up to his level. She only had enough time to gasp before letting out a pained yelp. The others watched him in quiet confusion. Jaskier found himself musing that this was the stillest they had been all night as he drank deeply from her.

As the crimson liquid inevitably slid down the front of her dress, someone drew in a sharp breath before letting out a desperate wail. 

“He’s a vampire!” Someone else cried.

“There’s no way, he doesn’t look anything like one of those beasts!” Another shouted.

Jaskier was done with the woman a moment later, his arms releasing her without a second thought and she fell off the edge of the table in a heap. Ghostly pale and undoubtedly dead. 

His blood-stained lips pulled themselves into a playful grin as he said, “I’m afraid they’re right.”

An explosion of movement and chaos erupted in the tavern as people scattered about to escape the monster that was Jaskier. Some scrambled under tables, others dived behind the bar, and several people made a mad dash for the second floor. 

“Why are you doing this?” A man pleaded as Jaskier yanked him away from the locked door.

“I need a message sent.” He explains before clamping his jaw around the other man’s throat. 

His need made him horrifically fast. It had been more than a few decades since he had last indulged in drinking blood and he was becoming more feral by the second as he fed on one person to the next. Their bodies were dropping like leaves from a tree in autumn and Jaskier found himself giggling at the comparison. 

It wasn’t long before the blood started to get to his head, making him stumble a bit as he made his way through the room. He had a feeling that by the time he finished this he would be so drunk off of it that he would simply pass out from the amount he had consumed. It felt as if he was walking on air at this point, but this was far from over. 

He could still hear the shaking breaths of what few survivors remained as he came around the other side of the bar. Huddled in the darkened corner a man and woman clutched onto each other and at the sight of Jaskier, the woman buried her face into the man’s neck as she let out a sob. A whisper of sadness skirted over his nerves as the man looked up at him with pleading eyes. 

The only kindness Jaskier gave them was a swift death before moving to the steps to the second floor. He searched every room, quickly taking care of the rest until all he could hear was the soft sound of one solitary heartbeat remaining. He wondered if his now hammered mind was playing tricks on him because it seemed to be coming from the room he had left Travis’s body in.

He opened the door so gently that it didn’t even make a sound and what he found made him pause. The kind nameless woman was on her knees cradling and whispering to the mauled corpse of the barkeep. Her own form seemed to shake from either tears or fright and as Jaskier approached, she didn’t even raise her head when she spoke.

“Go ahead. I’m ready for death.” She murmured and those words sent him rocking back, his hand only just managing to catch him on the wall before he could trip over his own feet. 

Jaskier recalled Geralt had said something similar to the elf king once when they had gone off on that first adventure together. Jaskier had been so different then, still so full of hope for the future, even if they had been bound and beaten at the time. He knew that he could’ve gotten them out of it if he had to, but he had wanted to see if Geralt could actually talk his way out of it. That statement had stuck with Jaskier, that the other man was ready to die.

All of the momentum he had built up in the last hour drained out of him that instant. 

“Leave. Please.” Jaskier breathes as he moves to the bed. 

The dark-haired woman darted to her feet and raced out of the tavern with a speed that was surprising for a human. Jaskier then collapsed onto the mattress as the first rays of sun began to peek their way in through the window. He was sure that she would go find help as quickly as she could, they would come for him, and he wouldn’t put up a fight as they tore him apart.

He was ready for this to all be over for a while.

Being ready for death was a luxury he wouldn’t be able to afford as easily as others in this world. But he would take what he could get at this point, anything to ease this never-ending ache in his chest. 

He awoke to the shuffle of soft footsteps sometime later and he let out a long breath of air as he laid there waiting. Whoever was now in the tavern was doing all that they could to be as silent as possible as they made their way around the place. He had to hand it to them, if he had been after any other creature, he wouldn’t have heard the approach until it was too late. Jaskier counted the footfalls as they made their way up the stairs.

The door opened, but the sound that met his ears puzzled him. 

A deep hum and then an equally low voice followed, “The last person I would’ve expected it to be was you.”

Jaskier ignored the bothersome stiffness of his bloodstained top as he slowly sat up, wondering if he was dreaming or hallucinating as he spied Geralt of Rivia standing in the doorway. "How did you find me?"

"A woman came to me crying that everyone here had been attacked and killed by a monster."

Jaskier let out a hum of understanding.

“Jaskier, what have you done?” The witcher questioned as he gestured around them.

“Since when do you care what my reasoning for anything is?” 

“This is different and you know it. It looks like a slaughterhouse down there.”

“I killed them. Does it please you for me to admit that?” Jaskier snapped as he rose to his feet. “I killed them so that the other humans in this town would have a reason to do the same to me.” 

“How?”

Jaskier smiled sadly at his old friend, “You would think that you would have figured it out along the way after all the years we’ve been around each other. Then again, there are a lot more things that I had thought you would be able to grasp after so long, but I guess I was wrong about that too.”

“Stop speaking nonsense.” 

He let out a sharp laugh as he shook his head, “I’m not human, Geralt.”

The other man shook his head as his hand drifted up to touch his wolf medallion, “How could I have not known?”

“I don’t think your little charm works on higher vampires.”

Jaskier could tell that finally got to him, Geralt knew as well as anyone else that monsters like him were rare and even witchers couldn’t kill them. 

“I thought your kind avoided contact with humans?”

Jaskier shrugged, “I’ve always found them amusing. Most of them appreciate what little time they have in this world and it used to make me grateful for having the gift of immortality.” 

“So, what changed?”

Jaskier ran a hand through his already disheveled hair as he explained, “You made me realize what I had been chasing after was pointless. That the pursuit of something more in my long and lonely life was only to be met with heartbreak and disappointment.”

The truth dawned on Geralt like the rising of the sun and for a moment he appeared lost for words. When he finally found his voice again, it was strained, “Jaskier, I…”

“Just get it over with Witcher.” He muttered before kneeling at Geralt’s feet. “I tire of all this.” 

Geralt let out a long sigh before casting the sign of Igni and Jaskier just let the flames claim him.

The pain soon began to grate against his nerve endings, stealing all his other senses, at last taking away the way his heart seemed to never stop breaking.

Geralt stood stiff in the door frame as he watched the fire consume the bard. He watched as Jaskier writhed like an arrow struck bird before finally falling to pieces into a pile of black ash. 

He was still stuck in a void of pain, but he didn’t feel the way he had when this had happened once before. When he was brought to a state that would have killed anything else. He didn’t feel as if he was in between the land of the living and the dead. Jaskier wondered then if maybe he was only asleep. If this had all been another nightmare, like every other he had dreamt in the past when he had drifted off to the thought of losing Geralt.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this wasn't too sad! Thank you for making it to the end! 
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr if you like at geraltssongbird.tumblr.com


End file.
